i actually really love it when someone remembers small details and quirks about me and i really love when people address me by my name at unexpected times like at the end of a sentence and i don’t know why but i just really do.

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“
There is no safe investment. To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket - safe, dark, motionless, airless - it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. The alternative to tragedy, or at least to the risk of tragedy, is damnation. The only place outside Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell.
C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves (via conniemly)
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forgetting: You’re sixteen and seventeen or nineteen and twenty and you’re...

letters-to-nobody:

You’re sixteen and seventeen or nineteen and twenty and you’re starting to realise that growing up feels like slowly pulling out a thorn from your flesh. You’re sitting alone and watching the sun come up and everyone you know is still sleeping, or trying to, or pretending to. You learn to walk…

This was posted 6 months ago. It has 106 notes.